


And Hell has Frank Sinatra too.

by KrissiTheStarfleetCaptain



Series: A Tale of Good Omens [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Ice Cream, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 23:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19486078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrissiTheStarfleetCaptain/pseuds/KrissiTheStarfleetCaptain
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley have ice cream in St. James Park.That's it. That is literally what the story is about.





	And Hell has Frank Sinatra too.

**Author's Note:**

> Fluffy Good Omens fanfic? Coming right up!!

It is a lovely afternoon in St. James Park. Just the right amount of cloudy that you are ought to know that it is going to rain today but not for the next couple of hours. Though, you still wouldn’t leave the house without your umbrella (because let’s be honest, no sane person living in Britain ever does) despite the fact that it is, indeed, mid-summer.

The ducks are doing their usual thing, hanging out close to the shore, next to the groups of tourists that are on their way to Buckingham Palace. Some are hopeful to spot the Queen up and about for a royal wave from the balcony. Others are on their way back from said palace, less enthusiastic as staring at a closed gate does rarely inspire endorphins. (This is excluding those morons who think it’s funny to spend ten minutes trying to mock the Queen’s guard because it is not. These idiots are happily jumping down the path, getting a kick out of harassing honourable people. You are simply not funny, okay? They won’t laugh. And has anybody ever heard of personal space, for crying out loud?!)

On this wonderfully grey summer day, an angel finds himself watching, a bit lost in thought, how a mallard angrily fights off a slightly perplexed cob in order to secure the best spot in front of a bench, where a Chinese spokesman has just sat down with a Russian spy to his left. And the cob is rightfully puzzled since swans are known to be the most actively aggressive birds in this pond (or any pond) and it certainly isn’t used to such outright ignorance towards this very commonly acknowledged fact.

Aziraphale hums quietly to himself, a melody that he has recently heard in the Bentley and it never quite manages to leave his head. However, he enjoys it and so it isn’t really surprising that he doesn’t hear the smooth steps approaching him until they stop in his immediate vicinity. 

“You know, angel, I find it disturbing as hell hearing you hum _Another One Bites The Dust_ as if it is a Frank Sinatra tune.” He looks up with a sheepish little smile and meets Crowley’s pointed look. And he knows the demon well enough by now to know that his look is pointed, even with his signature sunglasses on. Aziraphale accepts the ice cream cone with a polite nod, which is being patiently held out towards him, and falls into step next to his old friend. 

“Oh, I don’t know, Crowley. I believe it to be quite a cheery jingle. Very upbeat actually. Not much unlike Sinatra since you had to mention him.” 

Again, Crowley can only stare at the angel because of all the beings in the universe, may it be on Earth or surrounding Alpha Centauri, Aziraphale is most likely, no, beyond any doubt, the only one to call a song by Queen a _cheery jingle_. “Jingle? Seriously? What the bloody hell does this even?” 

A tiny frown appears on the angel’s soft features which usually means that he is irked by Crowley’s criticism of his choice of words but tries not to show it. And Crowley has it on good authority that there is no better way to annoy Aziraphale than questioning his usage of vocabulary. This authority being himself. 

Another very effective way to trigger the angel would be insulting the sushi place on Kingly Street but this would be going a step too far. Even for Crowley. Besides, the only reason why he enjoys ruffling Aziraphale from time to time is because he just makes an adorable picture with his forehead slightly creased and his lips pulled into a small pout. 

But…you never actually heard Crowley say this. And you never will. 

“Anyways, Sinatra is just as much one of ours as Mercury is which only proves my point that…”, the angel waves him off and comes probably as close to an eye roll as he ever will when he sits down on their usual bench. 

“Let’s not get into this old discussion again. This never leads anywhere.”, and give credit where credit is due, the demon does not, for the four-hundred-seventy-fourth time, emphasise the fact that all great musicians end up being Down there except for the occasional odd one out. He still singsongs quietly though, camouflaged behind actually eating his ice cream at the same time. “Only because you know I am right.” 

Aziraphale turns his head to shoot the demon an exasperate look which only earns him a mere shrug. But being completely honest, Crowley is right. This doesn’t mean that the angel will give him the satisfaction of agreeing. 

For all their banter, Aziraphale enjoys the rhythm that the two of them seem to be always existing in when they are around each other. Maybe it’s even the teasing that he appreciates the most sometimes. He has also grown to realise how much he actually values Crowley being here. With him. On Earth. Not inconveniently discorporated in this whole Judgement Day debacle or destroyed by holy water during their little exchange project.

Situations like these tend to bring things into perspective quite effectively. For years, the angel has tried to deny the simple truth that he likes Crowley. He likes their dynamic and The Arrangement has long stopped being a devious mean to a convenient end result. 

Aziraphale also…likes the way Crowley occasionally forgets himself and his passionate side shows during some of their conversations. In these moments the angel can’t help himself but only watch and listen. His friend can be impressively eloquent at times and surprisingly knowledgeable too. 

“I don’t only like dolphins because they are highly intelligent with those large brains.”, Crowley leans a bit closer towards the angel and lifts his hand slightly from the wooden backrest. Aziraphale lifts his brows and rights himself up, suddenly hyper aware again of how close the demon has gotten. Not that the lack of distance is unwelcome. In the contrary. It just makes him feel quite…restless. For no obvious reason whatsoever. 

Still it causes Aziraphale to harrumph softly before rediscovering his ability to speak, “No?”.

Crowley leans back again, his hand gestures so vivid that they seem to pass through his whole body. “No, of course not, angel!”, he brings his ice cream to his lips for a second before continuing, “They have incredible eyesight too. Both, in- and outside of water.”  
The angel inclines his head and considers this for a second, “Impressive! How does this even work?” He gives his friend a curious side glance when he looks up from his own cone. This turns out to be a terrible mistake, or the best decision in his six-thousand-year-old existence, because his attention gets immediately diverted from the demon’s well-informed explanation.  
“So, dolphins have this kind of lenses in their eyes and…” 

What exactly gets Aziraphale so side-tracked? There is a disproportionally large smudge of vanilla ice cream directly on Crowley’s chin and it is impossible to fight the delightful smile that starts to form on the angel’s lips since his friend doesn’t seem the slightest aware of his appearance. 

“Oh, Crowley. You have something…”, he points vaguely towards his own chin, “…here.”  
The demon lifts a brow confused and reaches for his jaw, “Here?” He attempts to wipe it away but misses by a mile which amuses Aziraphale only more. “Is it gone?” 

Crowley meets his friend’s eyes expectantly and the angel shakes his head, trying to hide the smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Not quite there. Further left.” His directions are followed by yet again another fruitless attempt to catch all of the ice cream on the demon’s part.

“No, still wrong.”, Aziraphale sighs softly at his friend’s incompetency to clean himself, an ability that can even be expected of most human adults but apparently not of an immortal centuries-old being. Meanwhile, Crowley starts getting frustrated and frowns at him, “Is this your pathetic attempt at a prank? It’s not particularly funny, angel.” 

Aziraphale huffs indignantly because this accusation is just preposterous and he lifts his nose tip somewhat, “You know exactly I would never do such a thing. It is rude, Crowley.” Then he unwraps the napkin around his ice cream cone und shifts closer to his friend.  
“And it is outrageous that you would even think that I am capable of such a thing.”, the angel gives Crowley an affronted look who has become uncharacteristically quiet and is watching him attentively. “Now hold still, you, silly demon.” 

He carefully wipes away the ice cream and is helpless when his eyes linger on Crowley’s lips for a moment too long to stay unnoticed. “There…”, Aziraphale looks up again at the familiar sunglasses, “It’s gone now.”

The demon doesn’t respond, only keeps holding his gaze which has Aziraphale pinned to the exact same spot. So close to Crowley. Too close. His breath tickling his face almost tenderly as if inviting the angel to lean a tiny inch more towards him. He slowly notices his throat go dry and frantically searches for something to say. Anything! But it seems like all coherent thoughts have left him, vanished without a trace. 

Again, his eyes wander down Crowley’s face and fixate on his lips. Not for the first time, Aziraphale wonders what it might feel like. Would it be electrifying like everything the demon does? Would it be sending shiver down his spine and make him feel all dizzy? 

There is only one way to find out. 

The angel suddenly makes up his mind and in this unexpected burst of bravery puts his lips carefully on top of Crowley’s in the next moment. 

Crowley goes still below him in surprise which has Aziraphale nearly suffer a panic attack, but he presses on determinately until he feels lips moving willingly against his own, kissing him back with such…he can only describe it as reverence. 

It takes him a while to actually realise what they are doing and in shock, Aziraphale pulls back from the kiss, his eyes wide. A blush creeps into his cheeks when he hears the soft whine Crowley makes at the unforeseen loss of lips. 

“Crowley, I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over…”, Aziraphale never gets to finish his inappropriate apology because Crowley grabs him by the collar of his suit and pulls him back in. 

“Shut up, angel.”, is the only warning Aziraphale receives before he is being kissed again, with more confidence but with the same tender awe as before. 

He curls his fingers gently into the fire red hair, losing himself gradually in the unhurried sweet kiss. A pace that he would have never dared to think of with Crowley in the same sentence. But here they were, Aziraphale gently leaning against the demon’s chest whilst Crowley rubs deliberate steady circles into his back. 

They could have stayed like this for hours or only minutes with all feeling of time gone. But even eternity would have never been enough. 

Aziraphale pulls back still in a daze and this time Crowley lets him. 

As it happens, the moment the angel opens his eyes again, his attention is immediately diverted by something else further down on his friend’s coat. Well…not friend, something more for sure? They shall discuss those terms later on. “Crowley?” 

“Hm?”, the demon doesn’t seem any more articulate than Aziraphale so he just lifts a brow and waits for him to continue, his fingers still drawing random patterns. Crowley probably doesn’t even consciously realise what he is doing and the angel likes it. How it comes all natural. 

“I am terribly sorry, but I think I have accidently smudged my ice cream all over your jacket.” Crowley follows Aziraphale’s gaze to the fresh ice cream stain, contrasting with the dark colours of his clothes and huffs a few seconds later. An amused smirk on his face. “Huh. Doesn’t matter, angel.” 

Aziraphale blinks in wonder but relaxes visibly. Not that he expected Crowley to be mad about such a triviality, he is nowhere near as fussy about such things as the angel. And still he finds Crowley’s amusement somewhat peculiar. “Really?” 

“Yeah. I did the same thing to your coat.” 

He looks down at himself to find a matching blob of ice cream gracing his own attire. And though this is normally reason enough to start fretting over the usually tip top condition of his coat, Aziraphale can’t really do anything but smile. 

And after all, it’s nothing a small miracle can’t fix.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! I really appreciate it!! 
> 
> Say hi to me on [Tumblr](https://marythepoppins.tumblr.com)!! ;D I'm happy to receive inspirational ideas for writing more in this fandom! I think I have two or three more things coming up in the next few days if I can motivate myself to sit down and write! ;)


End file.
